


Five Times Yachter Otter Was Part of the Knope-Wyatt Family (and One Time He Wasn’t Yet)

by Nutriyum_Addict



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Inanimate Objects, POV Outsider, Stuffed Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:43:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutriyum_Addict/pseuds/Nutriyum_Addict
Summary: Yachter Otter has seen a lot over the years during his time with Leslie and Ben.





	Five Times Yachter Otter Was Part of the Knope-Wyatt Family (and One Time He Wasn’t Yet)

**February 2026**

It’s dark.

Well, it’s been dark for awhile but even though he can’t see anymore, Yachter Otter can tell he’s somewhere else. And then he’s gently being lifted up and set down on a flat surface.

“Hi? Hello? Oh, there you are. Hi. Ben Wyatt. Um, I don’t know if you remember me but–”

“Oh! I do! You’re the one that used to buy all the stuffed animals. It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah,” he hears Ben answer with a laugh. Although sometimes he’s called _babe_ or _congressman_ or _dad_ at home. Sometimes _daddy_ , but it’s been a year or two since Yachter Otter has heard that version of the man’s name regularly.

“That’s me. So, I was wondering if–”

“Yes, I could definitely make you three bears dressed up as past presidents. Which ones?”

“No that’s okay…well, huh. Actually, that sounds kind of cute. Maybe Roosevelt, Kennedy, and…No, no. Never mind. That’s not why I’m here. I was wondering if–”

“Oh! What happened to this little guy?”

He’s being picked up and examined. Poked and prodded, but not roughly.

“Yeah. That’s why I’m here. Can you fix him? He’s kind of important to my wife. And to the kids. You know, I’m kind of fond of him too, I guess.”

Yachter Otter would roll his eyes if he could. But, _he guesses_ he’s slightly fond of this one too.

“His monocle is gone.”

“Ah, yes, a camping trip a couple of years ago. Wes took him on our hike and when we got back to the tents, no monocle. We looked, but we couldn’t find it anywhere. Leslie told the kids it was okay, that he’d get a contact lens.”

“Hmmm. And it says… _butt_ on the top of his captain’s hat? Why does it say _butt_ on the top of his hat?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, it wasn’t me. That was um…see, we have triplets. And there was a period, back when they were learning to spell, that pretty much every surface of our house had the word butt scribbled on it. Unfortunately, this one is in permanent marker. And then, we all kind of thought it was funny, especially Stephen, who was probably the one who wrote it. But, yeah, he should probably get a new hat.”

“I can put a new one on him,” the woman says. “What happened to his arm? And his eyes?”

It’s a good thing Yachter Otter can’t feel pain, because his right flipper has been nearly severed for a few days now. And his eyes fell out awhile before that.

It’s funny, he remembers a time, way back when he first started living with them, when he wished he didn’t have eyes, but he’s found now that he misses seeing his family (plus thankfully, he hasn’t had a front row seat for _noisy times_ in quite awhile).

Although, he’s pretty sure those times still happen with great frequency.

He hears Ben sigh, “The dog. In fact, I just found this little guy in the hallway last night. I think Bark Obama, that’s our dog, has been using him as a chew toy. It’s been a hectic couple of weeks, we just moved back to Indiana full-time from DC.”

“I can fix him. Sew him back together. Get him a new hat and monocle. Oh, and a new medallion for his neck.”

“You remember that? The necklace?”

Yachter Otter hears a laugh. “It’s not like I’ve made that many playboy otters lost at sea in my career.”

“Fair point. Okay. That would be perfect. Thank you. Any chance you could have him done by Valentine’s Day at the end of the week? I kind of wanted to give him to my wife again this year, you know, all fixed up and like new. I gave Yachter Otter to her on Valentine’s Day, um, fourteen years ago, back when we were dating. Now we have three kids and she’s running for Governor.”

“And you’re regifting a stuffed animal as your Valentine’s Day present? To the possible future Governor of Indiana? The mother of your children?”

“No. I’m not _regifting-regifting_ , I gave it to her already…oh. I see what you’re saying. I should probably do flowers or something else too, right?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Hmmm. Well, anyway, thanks for your help.” Yachter Otter gets a soft pat on the head. “See you soon, buddy.”

**April 2020**

His new location is in the bigger bedroom with all the small ones again—their names are Wesley, Sonia, and Stephen. He likes them all of course, but Wesley is his favorite. That’s whose bed he sleeps in and who cuddles him at night.

Li'l Sebastian is usually snuggled up with Stephen, and the girl, she has about twenty stuffed animals, including a very condescending ostrich named BoBo. Sonia also plays with a hard rectangle she calls Dr. Buttons.

He’s just sitting there one afternoon when Wesley comes into the room, crying. He plops down on his bed and hugs Yachter Otter, sobbing into his furry otter belly.

Yachter Otter wishes he could hug the little boy back.

“Wes? Hey, Wesley?”

He watches as Ben walks in and sits down on the bed next to his son. “What’s wrong?”

The small one sits up and sniffles. “Daddy.”

Soon Yachter Otter is set down on the bed and Ben is hugging Wesley. “It’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I drew a picture and no one knows what it is.”

Ben looks confused. “Where? On the wall?”

“No, daddy, I know the rules. At school. Everyone always knows what Stephen draws. He’s better at drawing. I’m no good.”

They’re sitting close together now, Wes practically on his father’s lap. “You’re very good, even if your pictures aren’t as obvious as your brother’s. That doesn’t mean his are better, you just see things differently.”

“Because of my glasses?”

Ben smiles and wipes Wes’s tears away with his fingers. “Mostly because you’re a different person than Stephen, and you see the world differently. And you draw differently. And that’s okay, it’s how it should be.”

Wes sniffles again and uncrumples a balled up piece of paper. The one he’d tossed on the bed when he first came in. “Do you know what that is?”

Yachter Otter is glad that he’s not being asked this question because Yachter Otter has no clue what that is…a traffic cone? A wedge of cheese?

Ben studies the work of art carefully. “Um…I think that’s a carrot?”

Wesley’s face lights up. and he starts to smile “Yeah! And what’s that?” He points to a multicolored blob beneath the carrot.

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I’m not quite sure, but if you tell me what it is, I’m sure I’ll see it.”

“It’s Benjamin Franklin flying a carrot instead of a kite. And that’s Yachter Otter taking notes for the newspaper and talking with Uncle Andy.”

Ben smiles and peers closer. “Wow. Okay. There’s a lot going on there. Hey, is Andy playing a broccoli guitar?”

Wes nods excitedly.

“This is very creative and colorful. Why don’t we put this up in the kitchen so mommy can see it tonight? I’m sure she’ll love it as much as I do.”

**November 2014**

Everyone’s been gone for a couple of days.

Leslie had been getting larger and larger and thankfully, the noises (and sights) had gotten a little less frequent over the last few weeks. Although, the other night, Ben did that thing with his mouth that Yachter Otter has never quite been able to understand.

That had certainly made Leslie _very_ noisy.

But now, they’re back home, with three small and crying bundles. and she’s moving a little slower than usual and Ben is doting on her and bringing her things—food, juice, adjusting her pillows, and handing the babies to her to nurse against her chest.

There are other people here too fussing over the whole scene.

Yachter Otter thinks he knows what’s going on here. They _finally_ had a litter of pups.

A couple of days later, he gets moved to another bedroom, this one is light green and has three cribs, a rocking chair, and dancing animal paintings on the wall. He knows what this is too—it’s the den where the new pups are being kept.

He’s up high on a shelf next to Li'l Sebastian, above a table where the new ones are cleaned up. It’s kind of a smelly location, and he and the mini-horse spend a lot of time complaining to each other about the odors.

But still, he thinks he likes these new additions to the family.

**October 2012**

It’s quieter lately.

Ben is not around anymore, although he thinks it’s not a permanent thing because he and Leslie still _talk_ to each other on their laptops every night. But, he’s no longer sleeping next to her in the bed all the time —just occasionally when he visits on weekends.

Today Ann is over. Ann is a _beautiful, lyrical sunbeam_ , at least that’s what Leslie calls her.

“I’m just not sure…” Leslie trails off, running her hands along Yachter Otter’s belly, where he sits in her lap. “He seems so happy, out there in DC being all smart and political. Of course, he’d want to go to Florida and work on another campaign. He did travel all the time before, he probably misses that lifestyle.”

“But you just found that great house. Maybe you could-"

Leslie shakes her head. “No. I think he wants to take this new job. And that’s great. I mean, I don’t like it at all and it’s awful but I totally and fully support Ben and all of his dreams. Maybe after this campaign is over? But, for now, it doesn’t make sense to rent the house when it’s just me. I’ll just go over and look at it one more time. To say goodbye.”

“Do you want company?”

She shakes her head. “That’s okay, go see Jerry at the hospital. I can go by the rental myself. Besides, I’ll find a better house for us later. One with a trampoline room. Because I don’t think Martha knows what she’s talking about there, I’m sure some houses have trampoline rooms.”

**March 2012**

_What_ are they doing?

He’s heard these noises before, but Leslie, that’s the blonde one’s name, usually turns him around so he’s facing the wall before the noises happen. But right now, he can see everything.

Apparently, hair color is not the only way to tell these two apart when they’re naked.

Is he…hurting her? No. No, Yachter Otter thinks, she seems to like it, whatever he’s doing.

“Oh no! Yachter Otter! I forgot to turn him so he couldn’t watch us.”

The one with the very prominent penis laughs (he’d be a big hit at yacht parties, Yachter Otter thinks). “Babe. He’s a stuffed animal.”

“Yeah, but–”

“Besides, if he’s going to live here, he might as well get used to this.”

He watches as they smile and laugh and roll around some more on the bed until the woman is on top, bouncing and moaning, and at least they look happy?

Of course, Yachter Otter wishes he could close his eyes and give them some privacy to mate—he finally figured out _that’s_ what they were doing —but unfortunately, his eyes are permanently open. That was convenient for navigating the difficult waters but now, in his new noisy home, it might be a small problem.

**February 2012**

He’s used to yacht parties and super models. Dry martinis and caviar. And then one day when he was out at sea, just thinking and planning his next adventure, he got lost in the high waves. Thankfully, he still has his monocle, even though that was mostly for show. He can see perfectly fine without it.

Then he was in a car…a Saturn? Which, being a playboy otter, seemed far beneath him somehow.

His next location is an office, behind a desk as he watches someone lead another someone closer, but the taller one has his paws over the shorter one’s eyes, so they’re walking slowly and laughing.

Apparently, the one had a dream about him—a playboy otter lost at sea. But how did he get here?

And why are they smashing their faces together like that?


End file.
